


it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

by jessbobess



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Pre-Slash, or the one where poe shot slip and finn is having a crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 09:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5621947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessbobess/pseuds/jessbobess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Slip was a trooper, yes,” Finn cuts in, sounding angry, now. He moves toward Poe so their faces are just inches from each other, and now even in the darkness Poe can see the beads of sweat dripping down Finn’s face. “So what does that matter? In case you’ve forgotten, <i>I</i> was a stormtrooper a little while ago, too.”</p><p>“But you’re not anymore,” Poe says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> so i saw [this post](http://flyboydamerons.tumblr.com/post/136502453958/saw-star-wars-again) on my tumblr dash, and my immediate response was "oh. oh no. ...now i have to write this."
> 
> thanks a TON to [abigail](http://astropoe.tumblr.com/) and [natasha](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuser/) for beta'ing this and dealing with my yelling about star wars, y'all are the realest of mvps

Poe’s initial reaction to Finn bursting into his room in the middle of the night is stomach-dropping horror. Sleep hasn’t come easily since he’s been back on base, and even when he finally does manage to settle himself down, he’s plagued by nightmares of Kylo Ren and of the assault on Starkiller, and he’ll wake up in a cold sweat with a scream on his lips. Tonight is no different, and his hand flies to his hip instinctively, as if to grab his blaster; but instead he simply finds that he’s grabbing on to his boxers, which is his first clue to the actual situation.

As soon as his eyes adjust enough to the darkness for him to make out Finn’s familiar silhouette, his heart rate slows and he heaves a sigh of relief, grinning groggily and rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” he asks, his voice low and raspy with sleep. But Finn says nothing, and Poe squints at him, frustrated at the lack of light as he tries to make out the other man. Finn’s breathing quite heavily, Poe notices, and worry pricks at him instantaneously. “You okay, Finn?”

“You shot him,” is all Finn says. His voice is tight and filled with hurt, and Poe nearly bites his tongue.

“Shot who?” He’s concerned. Like, really, _really_ worried. Forgetting entirely about his own demons, Poe untangles his legs from his sheets and stands, unable to keep his brows from knitting together. Tentatively, because he knows it’s a touchy subject, he probes, “Did you - have a nightmare?”

“No.” Finn shakes his head insistently, and _kriff_ , it really sounds like he’s going to cry. Poe’s not sure he can handle that, so he reaches to grab Finn’s hand, but Finn pulls it away like he’s afraid of being burned.

“Then what, what can I do?”

“You shot him,” Finn repeats, and Poe doesn’t understand; but Finn is still talking. “Slip. FN-2003. Back on Jakku, Poe, you shot him. You _killed_ him.”

“I don’t,” Poe says stupidly. His hand drops back down to his side. Maybe it’s because his mind is still cloudy from the abrupt awakening, but Finn’s words aren’t registering.

Finn turns away and starts to pace, wringing his hands anxiously. “I’ve been going over and over that night in my mind. Trying to figure out where it all went wrong, you know. Slip, he, he’d always been the slower one out of all of us, and usually I had his back, you know, but Phasma - Phasma was already unhappy with me, and then I was so busy being horrified at what was happening, what we were doing, and then you went and _shot him_ , and I-”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Poe crosses his arms across his chest, because he suddenly feels incredibly vulnerable, and not just because he’s standing there in nothing but his underwear. And then he uncrosses them, because that feels wrong too, somehow; and all he wanted when he saw Finn standing there was for him to crawl into his bed and to go back to sleep with him by his side. “Slip was…?”

“A trooper, yes,” Finn cuts in, sounding angry, now. He moves toward Poe so their faces are just inches from each other, and now even in the darkness Poe can see the beads of sweat dripping down Finn’s face. “So what does that matter? In case you’ve forgotten, _I_ was a stormtrooper a little while ago, too.”

“But you’re not anymore,” Poe says. There’s a fire in Finn’s dark eyes that doesn’t belong there, and Poe _hates_ it.

“But I _was_!” Finn is practically screaming now. The walls aren’t very thick on the base, so Poe’s neighbors are bound to hear them at this point, if they couldn’t before. In fact, they may very well have woken up half the Resistance by now. Poe half-expects General Organa to burst in at any moment, demanding that they keep it down, or at least take it outside. “I was, Poe, and don’t you dare say that I’m _different_ , because I’m not. I’m not any different now that I don’t wear that stupid armor, now that I have some made-up name-” Poe flinches, “-because I’m still the same _person_ , Poe, don’t you _get it_? Stormtroopers are still people! You killed a _person_!”

Because Poe is still stung by the comment Finn made about his name, he says, matter-of-factly, “I’ve killed lots of people.”

He’s telling the truth, too. When he joined the Resistance - no, even before then; when he joined the New Republic Navy, he’d had to make his peace with the fact that in war, death happens. As a soldier, you would often be the cause. It was easier as a pilot, he thought, because you didn’t have to face your handiwork directly. Pretending that the First Order ships were just empty machinery was the only way he got through, most of the time. It still doesn’t change the fact that he was damn good at what he did, and that meant he had plenty of casualties to his name.

He knows it’s probably the worst possible thing he could have said, but he can’t seem to help himself. (He’s not normally a spiteful person, but then again, he hasn’t quite been feeling like himself ever since Kylo Ren reached into his mind and took without his permission.)

This takes Finn by surprise. Apparently disgusted, he takes a few steps away from Poe, shaking visibly. Poe immediately regrets it, and he wishes desperately that he could take it back, but he knows it doesn’t work like that, he’s not naive; and even if he could take it back, he’d be lying, and lying to Finn is the last thing he wants to do.

“Poe.” The anger is gone from Finn’s voice, replaced by raw emotion that Poe thinks might be even worse, because now _he’s_ trying not to cry. “What if you had shot me?”

Poe freezes.

“I wouldn’t-” he starts, but even as he says it, he knows it’s not true. He hadn’t had a clue about Finn, then. Shooting him would have been easy. He wouldn’t have thought twice, not even after the battle was over. He hadn’t thought about Slip, after all.

He feels sick.

They stand there in horrified silence.

Poe sits - collapses, rather - on his bed, hanging his head in his hands. A few more charged moments of quiet pass before he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Slowly, Finn walks over to join him. He sits beside Poe and stares straight ahead, his shoulders squared and tense. “Me, too.”

Poe’s not sure how long they stay like that. Eventually, it’s Finn who breaks the silence again, his voice low and sad. “I thought the Resistance would be the polar opposite of the First Order. Rainbows and loth-kittens, and that sort of thing.”

In spite of everything, Poe laughs. He’s a little bitter when he responds, “Yeah. Not quite, buddy.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Finn clarifies.

“I know,” Poe says. And he did know, mostly; but it still feels good to get the confirmation. “I didn’t realize, about your friend. You know I wouldn’t have…”

Finn holds up a hand, and Poe trails off expectantly. “Stop. You don’t have to do that. You didn’t know me, then.” Fair enough, Poe thinks. Still. “And anyway, it doesn’t make me feel any better,” Finn adds, his tone dark, “knowing that me being Slip’s friend is the only reason you would refrain from killing him.”

Poe tries not to let that one hurt. It’s an entirely reasonable statement, and that’s the worst part. Kriff. What would his mother think of him?

“Besides,” Finn is saying, either unconcerned or unaware of the effect his last comment had on Poe, “he wasn’t a friend, really. More like a comrade. That’s the closest thing we had to friends in the Order.”

Another pause. “He was nothing like you.”

Poe thinks he can _hear_ Finn blushing, and just like that, he’s smiling again. It’s a more worn smile, this time, but it’s a smile all the same, and he slings an arm around Finn’s shoulders, shaking him good-naturedly.

“Well, good news, buddy - I’m here to stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from the song "hallelujah" by...everybody, tbh, but my favorite rendition is jeff buckley's and so that is the version of the song i associate with this fic
> 
> i have a [tumblr](http://flyboydamerons.tumblr.com/), come scream with me about poe and finn and rey and anything else ur sweet little heart desires


End file.
